Until Death Itself Ceases to Exist
by sarahandmarquis
Summary: Christine wants Erik to read her a Greek myth. Leroux. One-shot. Fluff. Rated K


Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

So, I may have been reading a little too much Hades/Persephone fanfiction lately…it rather inspired me to write this piece. I know, for sure, that this comparison has been made before. I'm just taking my own personal stab at it.

Forgive me, all those who actually are familiar with the myth! I wanted cute adorable fluff. LET ME HAVE MY CUTE ADORABLE FLUFF!

sarahandmarquis

P.S. For those who are wondering, I haven't given up on The Friend Shop. I've been very busy with my first year at college and just haven't had it in me to write. This is some bad writer's block! Maybe this will help me get out of that. I really should be studying for my Spanish test right now you know…but no, I wrote fanfiction. Oh well.

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**Until Death Itself Ceases to Exist**

"Would Christine like Erik to read to her tonight?" I look up from my knitting to the gaunt figure hovering in the doorway. He twists his gloved fingers together, a nervous habit I had quickly noticed soon after our first encounter. I take a deep breath and give him a sweet smile.

"I would like that." He slides into the room like a shadow creeping along the floor. Silently, he takes a seat and suddenly appears rather flustered.

"I…Erik seems to have forgotten to ask what Christine would like to read." He hangs his head and focuses on his boney hands. I sigh quietly and set the knitting needles down in my lap.

"I found a book of Greek myths at the market yesterday. I have been reading through my favorites. Why don't you read me one?" I pull the book out from under my apron and hand the slim novel to him. He shakily takes it from my hands and open it to my bookmarked page. I knew he had read the title when he nearly drops the book due to the shaking.

"What would Christine like Erik to read?" I settle back, picking up my knitting needles and finishing a row before responding.

"Hades and Persephone." His golden eyes lock onto me, incredulous. Now, I am not a fool. I know what I am asking of him. I know the parallels that can be drawn between myself and the goddess of spring and himself and the god of death. In fact, it might be easier to list that which wasn't similar. Even physically, we are like the pair, opposites in every way. A light and a shadow walking hand-in-hand.

"Is Christine sure?" I nod, giving him another encouraging smile.

"It is a favorite."

"As Christine wishes." He merely replies, though I hear the choked tone in his voice.

He reads in that perfect voice, the voice that rivals that of angels in the heavens. I could listen to him speak forever though he only seems to speak when he reads to me. He won't sing; he won't talk; he will only read. He doesn't know how much I love his voice. How much I love him.

We sit and he reads. The fire crackles in the hearth and slowly burns out, leaving us in a ruddy hued room, quickly filling with shadows. He finishes the tale and thrusts the book aside, far more gently then I think he would have liked.

I know what he just read. I know what it means to him.

"Christine should look for more accurate books. That is the most inaccurate recounting of the myth." He replies, his voice quiet as if afraid to break the palpable calm.

"Now, who can say that? No one was there." I finish my knitting row and turn, continuing on with the thick black yarn. He doesn't know I'm making him a scarf for Christmas.

"Because, she couldn't have lov-…cared about him like that after what he had done. God or not."

"Perhaps Persephone was stronger than anyone believed. The myth does say she became the strong and feared 'Iron Queen.' Perhaps she had more strength and a deeper heart." I pause in my knitting and rise to tend the fire. He beats me to it, quietly insistent on caring for my every need.

"It would have taken a deeper well than even a goddess could draw from to love someone after being kidnapped by them. Kidnapped and dragged under the earth, into the bowels of the Underworld itself." The double meaning is not lost on me. It never has been. After all, it is why I wanted him to read it.

"But Hades was kind to her. He treated her with gentleness and dignity."

"He took away her freedom of choice."

"So the myth says. There is no reason she couldn't have wanted to bind herself to the Underworld…and him."

"There is no reason she could have. What life is there for a beautiful woman in the depths of hell.

"If she loved him, her life was in the Underworld."

"She had many suiters. They would have been better for her. Better than the defor- …the unpleasant King of the dead."

"She might not have liked their attentions or liked them. They were other gods who would have thrown her aside as a fling when they were done with her charms. Hades would love her until the stars fell from the heavens, and Death itself ceased to exist. And he would love her still afterwards. Such depth of emotion…how could it not be returned?"

He had finished with the fire and now just kneels beside the fireplace, staring into the flames.

We have been married a year. A hard, cruel year for both of us. I wasn't happy in the beginning, and he wasn't happy either. I am far happier now and very fond of my husband, but he is not. He still blamed himself for everything when I had forgiven him all.

"Because even with such love, he didn't deserve it returned."

"I believe he did." I set aside my needles and walk towards his kneeling form. My skirts brush the edge of his leg, and he jolts as if a lightning bolt has shot through his form.

"Even after all he had done?" He looks up at me, gold eyes glowing in the darkness behind the mask. I nod.

"Yes."

"Christine, Hades made her queen. Erik can do nothing." He bows his head, admitting defeat. And, there we reach the variance. I am no queen of the underworld down here. I am simply Christine and he is simply Erik. No thrones. No dead subjects. No lands to rule.

"You can do something." I kneel down beside him, tucking my legs under my billowing skirts. I reach out slowly and take one of his hands in mine. He stares at it and whispers,

"What is that?"

"Love me. And be happy for it is reciprocated." He breaks, the fragile hold on his emotions exploding like a breaking dam and flooding his cheeks with tears. He collapses into my lap, clutching my hand as if it is the lifeline that will keep him from drowning in his own despair. He has no words, so I continue to speak.

"In the myth, Persephone became a strong and powerful queen with a will to match her name. I would like to think I can be a strong and powerful wife with a love to match her husband's. I don't need a kingdom or a throne or riches to be happy. I just want my husband and music." I run my hand through his hair, the wispy strands silky against my hands.

"I just need to see him happy around me. Comfortable around me. Not afraid." He shakes in my lap, a quivering mess, brought low by an indirect declaration of love. Shaking and beautiful voice choked with emotion so strong it rips through his emaciated frame, he lifts his head and looks at me.

"I would love you until the stars fall from the heavens and Death itself ceases to exist. And beyond. If you would have it."

"I would. Until Death. And beyond." I bend low and lightly brush our lips together. His are cold and clammy and barely reachable because of the mask but the kiss is sweet. The first of many. He quivers and shakes and holds onto me as a rock in his storm.

"Until Death and beyond, I shall love you with all my heart, my Hades. My love."


End file.
